In West Philadelphia, born and raised...

We're home for a while, finally, after two trips to the scenic Philadelphia airport in one week. We had to on Sunday, return home Monday, then go again on Thursday, returning on Friday.

Should anyone out there be seeking advice on the various terminals, car rental agencies, and eating options in PHL, just let me know. We're blossoming experts.

The great tragedy of these trips is that while we drove through Will Smith's neighborhood twice (or three times, I'm not sure), drove past the art museum (aka, the Rocky museum), and got to experience Philly rush hour (like Boston's, only with more PA plates), I never got a cheesesteak. In fact, the only cheesesteak I had last week was on Wednesday, at a D'Angelo's in Braintree, while taking M-N to her knitting group.

Although, that cheesesteak was awesome. Actually, it was a "Steak Bomb" -- and though I'm a pacifist, I wholeheartedly support any and all food products with "bomb" in the name.